


Informed Consent: Choices

by gracefultree



Series: Thought Experiments on House/Wilson Beginnings [7]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Is platonic really platonic?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7495149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefultree/pseuds/gracefultree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House has admitted his patient, the famous Ezra Powel, is going to die.  Wilson finds him in his office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Night

Wilson stopped by House’s office around midnight, after spending several hours napping on his couch while he waited for House to finish with his patient so they could go home. He’d driven House in that morning, and he hated leaving House to have to catch a cab so late at night. House sat in his darkened office, staring into space.

“How’s Ezra?” Wilson asked once he was sure he had House’s attention.

“Amyloidosis. Subtype AA,” House said softly.

Wilson closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Damn.”

“Let’s go.”

They walked to Wilson’s car slowly, House’s leg bothering him more than usual after 36 hours basically on his feet as he tried to solve the puzzle of his patient’s declining health. At his apartment, House nodded towards the building, asking Wilson to join him. Wilson grabbed his briefcase and followed.

They sat in the dark living room, not talking as they drank House’s best bourbon.

“He wanted me because he thought I’d help him end it all,” House murmured. Wilson nodded, taking a sip. “I couldn’t do it.”

“No,” Wilson agreed. “That’s not the kind of thing you do lightly.”

“I remember them all, Wilson. Every single one.”

“So do I.”

House refilled their glasses and leaned back into the couch cushions. “Five,” he whispered.

“Sixty-three,” Wilson volunteered. House reached out and put a hand on Wilson’s knee, squeezing lightly. For once, he didn’t comment at the physical contact from a friend who never touched anyone, feeling like it fit the mood they were in. “It doesn’t get any easier, no matter how much pain they’re in.” Wilson covered House’s hand with his own, needing that extra human contact.

“No,” House agreed. “It doesn’t.”

The silence stretched between them.

“Times like this, I wish I had someone to come home to,” House said. “Someone to touch.”

“Why do you think I got married so often?” Wilson squeezed House’s hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I love sex, but the comfort of having someone to curl up with in bed…” He sighed. “That’s what I really miss.”

House slipped his hand from between Wilson’s knee and hand. He leaned back again and sipped his drink. Wilson finished his and offered House a refill. House nodded, accepting the alcohol. They continued drinking, each lost in his own thoughts. They’d both shared more than was usual for them, and they needed time to regain their equilibrium.

House set his glass down and shuffled off to the bathroom without a word. Wilson didn’t mind. He was used to this kind of behavior from his friend. He stared into his empty glass and contemplated leaving. He sighed. He’d rather stay on House’s couch than go back to the sterility of his hotel. He knew where the blankets were, and it wouldn't matter to an empty room that he didn't stay there. A few minutes later House dropped a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on Wilson’s lap.

“If you promise not to go after the family jewels, I think my bed’s big enough,” House said. “Never shared with a guy before,” he added.

“Yeah, me, neither,” Wilson whispered, looking away. “I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he promised.

“Good.”

The sweatpants and t-shirt were a little too small for him, but Wilson appreciated the gesture even as he got changed. He had a spare shirt and tie in his car, so no need to worry about having to borrow one from House in the morning that wouldn’t fit him anyway.

House sat on the edge of his bed when Wilson joined him. Wilson went to the other side and climbed in, trying not to think about the strangeness of getting into his best friend’s bed.

“How do we do this?” Wilson asked, settling on his back. He knew better than to mention House’s leg, but they both knew that’s what he asked about. House pulled himself all the way into bed and started repositioning the pillows and blanket.

“If you’re on your back like that, I’d rest my leg on your thigh,” House answered. “If you’re on your side, I’d put a pillow between us to prop it up.”

Wilson considered his options. Was he able to relax enough to fall asleep with House’s leg thrown over his? What about if House were spooned against his back? Would he be able to sleep at all, in bed with House? If there was a pillow between them, the comfort they were trying to get from each other would be much more difficult…

“I’ll stay like this,” he decided.

House grunted and continued moving pillows. He took some Vicodin. When everything, including the distance between Wilson’s legs, was as he wanted it, House turned off the bedside light and lay down, rolling to his side and positioning his right leg on Wilson’s thigh. His leg felt heavier than Wilson expected. House scooted closer so that he was sharing the pillow with Wilson and put an arm over his chest. After a moment, Wilson shifted to put an arm around House, under his neck.

“Good night, James,” House said, his breath warm on Wilson’s neck.

“Night, Greg,” Wilson answered, hugging him briefly before letting his arm relax.

.

.

.

Though they woke up at the same time, House’s pain and his slowness in the morning made it so that he got to work a full hour after Wilson. He stopped for a coffee on the way, getting one for Wilson and bringing it by his office.

“What’s this for?” Wilson asked, eyeing the coffee suspiciously.

“Thanks for last night,” House answered. “I haven’t slept that well in weeks,” he admitted. “Not since the ketamine wore off.”

Wilson smiled and sipped the coffee gratefully. “You’re welcome.”

House nodded and turned to go.

“Has anything changed?” Wilson blurted.

“Don’t be an idiot,” House replied.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

House smiled. “Nothing would change even if we did it again,” he suggested. “As long as you remember the rules.”

Wilson chuckled. “Right. Keep the family jewels where they belong. I got it.” They both heard Cuddy’s heels walking with purpose towards House’s office at the same time. “Better get going. I’ll delay her a minute.”

“Thanks,” House said, disappearing out the door.


	2. It happened again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson and House test their new agreement.

Six days after they first shared a bed, Wilson let himself into House’s apartment sometime after one in the morning. He’d planned ahead and stopped by his hotel before coming over, so he had his own sleep clothes to wear and a change for the morning. House looked up from the piano as he entered. The music trailed off.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Crystal,” Wilson answered. “She was —“

“Five,” House interrupted, getting up from the piano and moving to find glasses clean enough for alcohol. “You’ve been treating her for two years.”

“Yes,” Wilson said, surprised. “How do you —“

“I monitor your patients,” House explained. “You know that.”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t expect you to remember… I mean, you never know their names!”

House handed him a glass and clinked it to his own. “I know them. I just pretend I don’t. Easier to stay objective.”

They swallowed their drinks quickly. “And you get to annoy your fellows when you don’t know the names,” Wilson muttered.

“Two birds, one stone,” House replied with a dark chuckle. He set down his glass. “You coming to bed?”

Wilson blinked in surprise. “Just like that?”

“There’s no point pretending we don’t know why you’re here.”

“I suppose not,” Wilson admitted, touched that House would stay up late on the off-chance that he stopped by.

Wilson followed House to the bedroom and changed into his sleepwear, no longer having the energy to feel anything about House seeing him in his underwear. House put a pillow under his leg and got comfortable on his back before pulling Wilson close against him. Wilson let himself put an arm around House’s middle and rest his head on House’s t-shirt-covered chest. It felt absurdly comforting to have House’s heart beating just under his ear.


	3. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After several months, Wilson gets curious.

The pattern they’d established that first night became a routine. Whenever one of them had an especially difficult day, or when one of them lost a patient, they ended up in House’s bed together, cuddling and sleeping. Occasionally they’d talk, quiet whispers in the dark that they didn’t acknowledge in the light of day.

Then one night Wilson dozed off during a monster truck rally on tv, and instead of kicking him out to go home to his hotel like he usually did, House herded him down the hall to the bedroom. More and more often they ended up in bed, bad day or not. Once, Wilson showed up at House’s apartment after a date, still smelling of her perfume. House teased him mercilessly and made him shower before letting him in bed.

“Are you ever curious?” Wilson asked one night a week later as House settled half on top of him.

“I’m always curious,” House answered, yawning.

“I mean —“

“I know what you mean,” House interrupted.

“You do?”

“You’re wondering what it would be like if we had sex,” House explained. Wilson felt his cheeks heating. “You’re thinking, we’ve been sleeping in the same bed off and on for months, you didn’t have sex with that woman last week, you’re horny, and you’re wondering if we could make it work, even though we’re both mostly straight.”

Wilson felt a rush of fear flow up his body and make him feel dizzy, even though he was lying down.

“You’re thinking, House is an open guy, he likes sex, he’d be willing to try, aren’t you?”

Wilson swallowed the bile in his throat, unable to make a sound. House hadn’t pulled away yet, which was a good sign, but he could feel the tension in the room.

“You’re thinking, we’ve talked more these last few months than we’ve ever talked in fifteen years. You’re thinking that the House you’re getting to know in bed like this is totally different from the jerk he is during the day, and you like this new him. You’re thinking you’re falling in love with me and that the only way to express that is through sex, because that’s what you know.”

Wilson shivered at the accuracy of House’s words.

“You’re thinking that trying it wouldn’t change much.”

“I —“

“It would change everything.”

Wilson squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe through the panic.

“It would change everything,” House repeated. He found Wilson’s face in the dark and stroked his fingers down Wilson’s cheek. “It would change _everything,_ ” he whispered, his voice low and intense.

“I —“

“You could only be with me,” House said. “No girlfriends, no dating.” He paused. “No hookers for me.”

“House.”

“If you think I’m intense and crazy now, you have no idea what I’m like with a lover.”

“Yes, I do,” Wilson said, finally finding his voice. “You’re possessive and jealous and obsessive. You need to know everything about their day, what they did, who they talked to, where they went. You’ll piss them off on purpose, just to see them angry. You’ll dig and dig and dig, trying to find a reason to end it. You’ll try to push them away to keep yourself from getting hurt. You’re insensitive and forgetful and much more romantic than you’d ever admit.” He took a breath. “You’re rude, and thoughtless and you’ll share personal details without worrying about the consequences. You’ll turn just about anything they say as a sexual innuendo and spend hours talking about sex and trying to embarrass them.”

Wilson sighed. “You’ll need to know every detail, but you won’t talk, and you won’t share, and you’ll do your best not to show any emotions, even though you feel them, and you’ll use your partner’s feelings against them and try to manipulate them, and mock them, and you’ll use sex as an incentive and a punishment and a bargaining chip.”

“And even with all that, you’d want to do me?”

Wilson pushed on House’s shoulder, moving him to his back so he could sit up and look down at him. “Maybe I _am_ falling in love with you,” Wilson said. “Maybe I’ve been dealing with all that for fifteen years and I figure I’m immune. Maybe I’m a masochist and actually enjoy all the things you do.”

“Maybe you want me to tie you up and take away all your control and make it so that you can’t think of anything but me, anything but sex and —“

“I think you’re describing yourself, there,” Wilson said.

House shifted, his eyes leaving Wilson’s face to focus on a spot on the ceiling.

“Maybe you’re right,” House whispered.

“For all that your brain works triple-time, you need a break. I think you’ve thought of all this before.”

“I’ve tried going to a professional dom. No one’s been able to quiet my head.”

“If we do this, I’ll find a way. I’ll give you the quiet you need.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” House hissed.

“For God’s sake,” Wilson exclaimed. “At least let me try!”

They stared at each other for a few intense seconds before House turned away. Wilson waited, but when House rolled over so that he was on his side, his bad leg pressing into the mattress, he knew House wouldn’t relent.

“Fine. Don’t hurt your leg.” Wilson settled so that his back was to House, giving him the opportunity to put a pillow between them for his leg. After another few minutes, House did just that.

“I’m not risking this,” House explained in a whisper.

Wilson sighed in response. “Ok. I get it.”


	4. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After House rejected Wilson's curiosity, they needed a break.

Wilson woke to the sound of the lock clicking and his hotel room door sliding open. He waited in silence as he listened for House’s uneven gait. Of course, who else would have a key to his room? He’d left it at the front desk for him, after all, though he never expected House to come by to get it and use it. They hadn’t slept in the same bed for weeks, ever since that outlandish discussion of feelings where Wilson admitted he might be falling in love with House. They’d never talked about it, never referenced it. Wilson figured that the way they’d keep their friendship was to let it go and give themselves time before being ready to try sleeping in the same bed again, since even though House had been freaked out by his autistic patient, he hadn’t sought Wilson’s support when he might have before that conversation.

House moved around the room in the dark, changing clothes, going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and eventually coming to the bed. He stood looking down at Wilson for three minutes before Wilson’s patience snapped.

“You getting in, or are you going to stare at me all night?” he demanded, opening his eyes. House’s face looked more lined and haggard than usual in the dim light from the window and he wondered what had happened.

“Move over,” House replied. “I have to be on this side.”

Wilson blinked, then frowned. Of course he’d have to move. House needed to be on the right for his leg. He shifted over and House sat down, rubbing his thigh.

“Insomnia?” Wilson asked. “Or pain?”

“Pain,” House answered. “Some asshole in the Clinic kicked my cane out from under me this afternoon.”

Wilson shot up into a sitting position. “What?”

“I haven’t been able to get ahead of it since, and I’m not willing to take morphine when I have a pair of patients with the same unidentified thing. I maxed out on Vicodin two hours ago.”

“House, that’s assault,” Wilson said. “You can go to the —“

“I responded by shoving a thermometer up his ass and left it there,” House muttered. “Somehow, sexual assault is worse than physical, in the eyes of our court system. And as a doctor, I’d face extra penalties if I took it to the police.” He ran his fingers through his hair and got in bed properly. “Besides, the guy was a cop.”

“Oh,” Wilson whispered.

“Yeah. Not my best move.”

“You were provoked,” Wilson asserted. “You must have hurt yourself when you fell if you still haven’t gotten the pain to a manageable level by now.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything about it, so let’s drop it and try to sleep,” House snarled. He grabbed Wilson and rearranged him so that he was half on his side and half on his stomach. House slipped his bad leg between Wilson’s legs where it would stay supported. He cuddled up against him and pulled his back tight against his chest. It wasn’t a position they’d used often, and it felt more intimate that their usual way of sleeping together. There was no pillow between them. If he concentrated just right, Wilson could feel the outline of House’s dick against his ass.

“Ok,” Wilson said. “Ok.” He closed his eyes and listened to House’s breathing for the next hour before his friend managed to fall asleep.

.

.

.

“Did you tell Cuddy that he kicked your cane first?” Wilson asked when House complained the next day about Cuddy trying to make him apologize to the bastard from the Clinic.

“Of course not.”

“Oh, good, that means she can’t help you and you’re on your own. Why would I think you’d do anything to actually _help_ yourself?”

“You’re constantly optimistic that the Earth will freeze so the Sun can circle it,” House answered and disappeared around a corner.

.

.

.

Wilson didn’t mention House’s arrest past the initial grumbling when he picked him up at the police station, but he was worried and concerned. As he drove House home that night, he struggled with his instinct to follow his friend inside and force him to talk about it, even knowing it would bring a fight. He wanted to curl up in bed with House and hold him and kiss him and tell him it would be ok, but he knew that wouldn’t be welcome. He sighed sadly as House got out of the car.

House didn’t immediately leave, though. He turned back to Wilson.

“You coming in?” he asked hesitantly. Wilson hadn’t heard that kind of vulnerability in House’s voice in a long time, and he felt himself responding to it.

“Yeah,” he answered, turning off the car.

Like the first night they slept together, they sat in the dark drinking, not even bothering with the tv.

“Are you still curious?” House eventually asked.

Wilson turned his head to look at him. “Yes,” he answered simply.

House nodded to himself and finished his drink. Wilson waited.

“I — I made a mistake with that cop,” House admitted. “I should’ve apologized and let it go.” Wilson continued to wait. “But I pushed, and it’s going to get worse from here on out.”

“I know.”

“If we do this, you’ll get caught in the cross fire.”

“I already am, Greg,” Wilson said. “We’re best friends, and if he comes after you, he’d come after me to pressure you, whether we’re doing this or not.”

“I won’t share you,” House said, echoing an earlier conversation they’d never mentioned.

“I know.”

“I’ll find new ways to hurt and embarrass you.”

“I know.”

“I can’t — I can’t always get it up.”

“The Vicodin?” Wilson asked.

“That and the pain,” House answered. “And middle-age.”

“You’d just have to watch me masturbate, I guess,” Wilson suggested. House laughed, a full belly-laugh that encouraged Wilson’s hope. He leaned over and rubbed Wilson’s knee with his hand. Wilson shifted so that he sat close enough to House that their legs were touching, making it easier. House continued stroking his leg, a small smile on his face. “I’ll try to make you eat healthier,” Wilson said, pressing his point. House chuckled. “I’ll flirt with women. I can’t stop that, it’s a natural part of me, as you’ve pointed out. An instinct.”

“Expect me to get jealous.”

“I won’t pay for everything.”

“Why not? You practically buy all my meals already.”

“Because…” Wilson hesitated. “I’ll want the occasional romantic gesture.”

House paused. “From me?”

“Yes.”

House lifted his hand from Wilson’s knee and stroked it down Wilson’s cheek before grasping his head and pulling him in for a gentle kiss. “Romantic enough for you?” he asked when he pulled back. Wilson, feeling dazed at the tenderness, nodded. They kissed again, a little deeper.

“I’ll need a new doctor,” House said suddenly. “If we’re sleeping together, I can’t have you managing my pills.”

“Makes sense,” Wilson allowed. “In-house, or out?”

“Princeton General. There’s a guy there that might work.”

“You’ve been looking into this?” Wilson asked, startled.

“Ever since Tritter knocked me down,” House admitted. “If Vicodin can’t fix breakthrough pain, and I don’t want morphine… I’ve gotta try something else. And I don’t want everyone at work knowing.”

“Yeah, if you go there, everyone will hear about it in a matter of hours, privacy and HIPPA be damned.”

They sat in silence for a minute, House playing with the hairs on the back of Wilson’s neck.

“Detox’ll be a bitch,” House muttered. “I should probably go inpatient. I’ve been on these things for a long time.”

“I’ll help however I can,” Wilson offered.

House nodded and fell silent again.

“Anything else I need to know in advance?” Wilson asked.

“Condoms,” House said. “And don’t think to get me to marry you. I’ll tell you right now, it won’t happen.”

“I’ve had enough marriages as it is,” Wilson muttered with a sigh. “I’m gonna make you talk about your feelings at least once a week.”

“Once a month!” House countered.

“Every ten days.”

“Every other week.”

“Deal.”

“I retain the right to mock you.”

“And I retain the right to deny sex if I don’t feel like doing it.”

“Well, duh,” House said. “Just tell it like it is, though. None of this ‘I have a headache’ bullshit.”

Wilson laughed. “I _do_ get migraines sometimes.”

“Whatever.” House reached out and took Wilson’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“So, are we gonna try this?” Wilson asked, freeing his hand to pour more bourbon for them.

House accepted his glass and clinked it against Wilson’s. “To informed consent,” he toasted.

“Informed consent.”


End file.
